Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [199]
‘What’s up my love?’ asked Tyndall. ‘I haven’t seen a smile in weeks.’
‘There isn’t much to smile about, is there?’ she said with a sigh.
‘That depends now,’ said Tyndall. ‘You could smile because you live in a safe little backwater, it’s a terrific sunset out there, and you have a family who loves you.’
‘You’re right, Dad, but the war is worrying. What’s going to happen to us? The business isn’t doing well.’ She sighed heavily and leaned back in the deckchair as if very tired. ‘There’s another thing. For some reason, I feel I want to go down the coast to see the mob. Maybe that’s what I need to brighten things up. It’s ages since I last went bush.’
Tyndall gave her a penetrating glance and Olivia jumped in quickly. ‘That’s a good idea, Maya, it’s nearly the end of the wet. The weather is calm, the sea trip will do you a world of good.’
‘Then why don’t we all go,’ announced Tyndall. He was about to add that he had a feeling it might be their last opportunity for some time, but decided against it.
It was a ‘family expedition’ down the coast. Olivia, Maya, Tyndall and Ahmed laughed and reminisced as they sailed south in smooth seas and sunny weather. A little colour returned to Maya’s cheeks and Olivia was happy to be at sea again. Tyndall declared they all looked as young as when they’d first started sailing down to Cossack and, looking at him, legs braced on the deck, long brown fingers delicately guiding the wheel, the wind in his hair, his back straight, Olivia had to agree. And looking at his beloved Olivia, Tyndall still saw the defiant chin, the bright eyes, the soft curves of the body he adored, her hair falling in a thick loose braid down her back in shades of pepper and salt. Olivia moved a little more cautiously on the boat than in the past, but she, too, still held herself firmly, her grace and poise unbent.
‘What a marvellous pair you are,’ said Maya.
‘I agree,’ said Tyndall. ‘The only old fella in this crew is Ahmed there.’
Ahmed, slightly stooped and wizen-faced, his bright black eyes still merry, gave a nicotine-stained, gap-toothed grin and raised his cigarette. ‘You right there, tuan. Ahmed old fella now.’ But his sure movements on the boat and agility in the little galley proved he was not as ancient as Tyndall’s teasing hinted.
They moored and, as expected, there were members of the black community there to greet them. The numbers had decreased and they travelled less these days. Some had chosen to settle permanently at the mission on the coast. So the arrival of the schooner was greeted with much excitement, a welcome diversion and reunion.
After greetings were exchanged on the beach, almost all talking at once, they walked through the well-worn track over the dunes to the camp.
Olivia fell silent and the chatter became background noise as she was transported back to the first time she had landed here—frightened, exhausted, pregnant. This place and its inhabitants might as well have been an alien planet. Now she knew almost -everyone and the women still told the story of her arrival and the birth of baby James. It had become folklore. What might have happened to her had they not befriended her? She had Tyndall to thank for that. She had found that there was a kinship between these people and Minnie and Niah. Now she better understood and appreciated the intertwining relationships. Maya had lost her identity then rediscovered it here. Olivia had helped bring Maya into the world and always felt a bond with her, little knowing she would one day give birth to Olivia’s granddaughter. Momentary regrets drifted through her mind, that Hamish had died in the war, and his child Georgie chose not to know these special people, but she dismissed them and concentrated on the conversation around her.